


Coincidence? I Think Not.

by hylobates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Doctor Castiel, Eventual Explicit Content, Humor, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hylobates/pseuds/hylobates
Summary: Mr. Winchester,We regret to inform you that your test results have come back positive for chlamydia. Please call our office at your earliest convenience to schedule an appointment.Best of luck,Dr. NovakDowntown Austin Planned ParenthoodDean isn't one to believe in fate, but Dr. Novak keeps popping up on his radar. What happens after an admittedly terrible meet-cute turns into several actual meet-cutes?PSA: This fic starts slow, but it'll pick up quickly! Stay tuned for the later chapters. ;)





	Coincidence? I Think Not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is going to be a 10 chapter fic. I'll be uploading on Thursday every two weeks. I hope you enjoy! Please leave comments and kudos. They encourage me to finish writing. :)

_Mr. Winchester,_

_We regret to inform you that your test results have come back positive for chlamydia. Please call our office at your earliest convenience to schedule an appointment._

_Best of luck,_

_Dr. Novak  
Downtown Austin Planned Parenthood_

 

Once in a while, something happens that changes your outlook on life. Maybe it’s that great play you saw a few months ago – the one with Darren Criss in it – or maybe it’s the song “Faith” by George Michael. Dean’s moments of clarity are usually not so serendipitous.

Ah, chlamydia. The clap. Actually, that’s a common misconception. “The clap” refers to gonorrhea, not chlamydia, although the two are often confused since there are both bacterially based. They’re both easily curable with prescribed antibiotics, a fact that Dean keeps in mind.

But… wait.

Dean never got tested for chlamydia. Not recently, anyway. He does go to Planned Parenthood pretty regularly for the free condoms. Plus, he has a mental breakdown every few months that results in him going to the clinic for vasectomy counseling because he’s terrified of becoming his father. He never gets that vasectomy, though. Just a kind, stern talking-to from the vasectomy counselor, Jody (she doesn’t just counsel for vasectomies, but that’s how Dean knows her. She’s actually very accomplished!).

Back to the chlamydia thing. Yeah, what the fuck? This isn’t right. He’s never even met a Dr. Novak. Man, _fuck_ Dr. Novak.

“Yeah, _FUCK_ Dr. Novak,” Dean says out loud. “Who does he think he is, coming into _my_ house and spreading his libelous accusations for the whole world to see?”

Reader, you’ll have to forgive Dean. Clearly, he knows that no one can see the email that Dr. Novak sent to Dean’s personal email. He knows that Dr. Novak is not in his house. He has enough smarts to recognize that the whole world cannot see what happens in Dean’s own home. He understands that this is in fact a low-stakes situation. However, he is quite offended that this Dr. Novak chump thinks that Dean has unsafe sex.

“Unsafe sex my _ass,_ ” Dean says to the empty room, angrily dialing the phone number listed below Dr. Novak’s smug electronic signature. As the phone rings, Dean paces in his bedroom.

Now, Dean is man with a lot of pride. Some might call it arrogance. Dean calls it confidence. Whatever it is, it makes Dean think that he Knows How To Walk, and he doesn’t need to watch where he’s going, thank-you-very-much.

It is this hubris that causes Dean to stub his toe with force and valor on the edge of his bedframe. Unfortunately, at the precise time of the toe-stubbing is when someone answered the phone.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT,” screams Dean, directly into his phone.

Silence.

Then, a choked sob heard from the phone.

Dean, realizing his mistake, apologizes while trying to soothe his toe. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I… I stubbed my toe. You are not the dammit. The dammit was not for you. I’m so sorry. It just really fucking hurt. You know how toes can be.”

The person on the other end of the line clears their throat. Dean hears some rustling, then a sigh.

“Good to know,” they say. “Sorry for crying a little bit. It’s been a busy day. The protesters outside are pretty rowdy today, so I’m a little on edge. Also I hit a squirrel on the way to work today. I thought you were some kind of vessel for divine retribution. But that’s… not your problem. Sorry again.”

Despite his rough and tough exterior, Dean has a heart that melts in empathy for other people, especially innocent people. This Planned Parenthood worker is not only innocent, but selfless for taking such a thankless job. Kinda messed up that she hit a squirrel, though.

“No, don’t apologize. I go to Planned Parenthood all the time. I just got a weird email that I wanted to clear up. Can you help me with that?” Dean asks, gently. Well, as gently as his gruff voice allows.

“Yes, of course. This is Dr. Novak’s line. I’m his assistant, Charlie. What was the email?”

“Well, the email says that I have chlamydia.”

“Oh, so you need antibiotics?”

“No, I – “

“Sir, chlamydia should be treated as soon as possible. It’s very common. There’s no shame in contracting chlamydia.”

“No, you don’t understand – “

“Sir, I’m urging you to seek treatment. Don’t let your toxic masculinity get in the way of your health.”

“I don’t have toxic masculinity.”

“Oh, sure, and I don’t have a tattoo of Megan Fox in a Wendy’s uniform.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Huh. Hey, stop that. You’re getting me off track. Look, I don’t have chlamydia.”

“Sir, the tests don’t lie.”

“I get that. But I didn’t get tested.”

Again, silence.

Then, a short huff.

“What’s your name, sir?” Charlie asks. Dean thinks he hears her whisper, “Man, _fuck_ Dr. Novak,” but he can’t be sure. It’s probably just wishful thinking,

“The name’s Winchester. Dean Winchester.”

“Ooh, love the Bond impression.”

“You like that? Yeah, I thought it would be funny.”

“Oh yeah, it was hilarious,” Charlie says with absolutely no sincerity. Dean decides to take the compliment anyway. “You said your name was Dean?” Charlie says. Now she sounds confused. Dean takes solace in the fact that they are both confused.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Dean.”

“Huh. Alright… Dean, do you, by chance, know a Sam Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s my brother. Why? Wait, does he…?”

“Dean, I’m going to put you on hold for just a minute while I talk to Dr. Novak.”

“No, Charlie, _wait –_ “

But it was too late. The slow, rhythmic EDM hold music had already begun. Dean grumbles into his phone, his foot tapping to the beat against his will. He stays like this for a long time, all the while wondering if his brother has chlamydia. Dean hopes he does.

While he waits, Dean wanders about his room. He looks at the picture of Sam he has on his dresser, gently touching the frame. “Oh, Sammy,” he says. “If you can’t shield your rocket, keep it in your pocket.”

Dean laughs at his own joke. He finds a notepad and writes down his absolutely brilliant joke so that he’ll remember to tell Sam. He also writes down “You can’t go wrong if you shroud your dong,” “Avoid a frown, protect your clown,” and “Don’t surprise her, cover your geyser.” Dean thinks he’s very funny.

“Mr. Winchester?” says the phone.

“Charlie?” Dean asks.

“No, I apologize. This is Dr. Novak. I understand that there has been some confusion regarding your contraction of chlamydia. It seems that you have not contracted it at all. Am I correct?”

Dean takes a moment to respond even though he knows the answer. He just can’t get over how _deep_ this guy speaks. This can’t be his normal voice, right? His vocal cords must be shredded. It sounds like this guy gargles with rock salt.

“Uh, yeah. You’re correct. Correct-a-mundo.”

Dean usually never says “Correct-a-mundo,” but he’s flustered, okay? Cut him some slack. The doctor speaks in a tone lower than a baritone. His voice is like a reverse dog whistle. Dean rubs his forehead and grimaces, ashamed at the man he has become.

This ends now.

He’s Dean Winchester, dammit, and he does not get flustered. No, he is firm, steady as a rock. And he’s charming. He can charm the pants off a nun, assuming that nuns wear pants. He’s not sure what the whole under-the-robe situation involves. But that’s not important. Dean takes a breath and lets it out. So the doctor has a deep voice. _Big deal._ You know what’s bigger? I’ll give you a hint: it’s in Dean’s pants.

That’s right. Dean has a giant wallet.

Oh, what? You thought I was going to say penis? Grow up.

Dean is well-off. And by well-off, I mean comfortable enough to take out $500 in singles to use at a strip club tonight – although with this whole chlamydia scare, he’s seriously rethinking that course of action. But again, we’re getting off topic.

“Well, Dean,” Dr. Novak says, sexily, “unfortunately, you need to come into the office to clear this up. If you can, bring Sam Winchester with you. He’s your brother, correct?”

“Yeah, but why do you need Sam?”

“It seems as though your brother wrote your name in the space for the patient and his own name in the space for the emergency contact. I’m sure it was a simple mix up, but I’ll need his consent to change the forms.”

“Alright, no problem,” Dean says. As an afterthought, he adds, “Hey, I’m sorry I told you to go fuck yourself.”

“You never said that,” Dr. Novak responds. He doesn’t sound offended or confused. He sounds… indifferent? Weird guy. Maybe he should go fuck himself. Damn doctor has some kind of superiority complex. His ego must be bigger than Dean’s wallet (yeah, we’re circling back to the wallet thing).

“Right. Well, sorry for thinking it,” Dean laughs, shrugging away the awkwardness in favor of smooth confidence.

“Apology accepted, Mr. Winchester. I will see you later today.”

The call ends. Dean lets his hand fall from his ear so that he can stare at his phone properly. That was, without a doubt, the strangest call he’s ever had. He pushes away his disbelief and confusion so that he can put some pants on.

That’s right. Dean didn’t have any pants on for the entirety of the phone call. I _was_ talking about his penis.

///

“Shut _up_ , Dean.”

“Why should I? This is the best I’ve felt in years. My little brother, the apple to my pie – “

“It’s apple of my _eye_ , moron.”

“Hey, whatever. Shut up. You’re the one that has chlamydia.”

“You can’t keep using that as a comeback!”

“Yes, I can. Stop being a bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Are you coming or not?”

Sam sighs, his breath crackling through the phone receiver. Dean waits impatiently, tapping his fingers on his kitchen table and staring forlornly at the soggy cereal in his bowl. It’s actually bullshit how quickly cereal gets soggy. It is definitely not Dean’s fault that he overloads the bowl with Cinnamon Toast Crunch and takes for-fucking-ever to finish eating.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

“If you’re gonna come, put on a condom. I don’t wanna get pregnant, and you don’t have a great track record.”

“Fuck off, Dean.”

Sam ends the call to the sound of Dean cackling. 


End file.
